


Hope is the Thing with Fur

by KateKintail



Category: Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One loss too many, one battle too many, Logan has finally reached his breaking point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is the Thing with Fur

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a WWOM daily prompt: authors choice #210 - cross your fingers and hope to.... - any pairing - any length
> 
> Not my characters. I marvel at Marvel and make no money.

Logan hesitated only to be sure he could find the courage within himself. All alone at last, without anyone to answer to, honesty came more freely to him, though the voices and memories would never completely leave him. “Cross my fingers and hope to fly.”

From high atop the bridge, Logan looked down to see two seagulls gliding through the calmer air down below. Not even the birds ventured up so high. But he’d dug his claws into the steel and kept going until he’d reached the top. Even then, faced with the stillness and loneliness, the blaring lights and harsh commotion of the world below stared him straight in the face.

The wind whipped around Logan furiously, taking hold of the loose bits of his uniform and tossing them this way and that. His hood had been ripped from him minutes ago, and he had watched it fly free, sailing down, claimed by the wind. Now his hair was free to be mangled and battered by the constant gusts. He could feel the wind pushing and prodding his body, which wasn’t as strong now as it once had been, the passage of time finally showing itself in tiny imperfections: wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from too much narrowing, a slight roundness to his belly from too many snacks, a slight ache in his back from behind thrown too many times.

Or rather, not many enough. The toes of his boots perched just over the ledge, daring the wind to take him before he was ready. He was lost to them all now, lost in thought, lost in spirit. The fight would always carry on, as if it had always been, and the losses he had suffered were so heavy he was surprised they hadn’t carried him off the bridge already. The structure felt miniscule and weak beneath his feet at this height.

Logan spread his arms, the wind pounding at him now, the scents of the river and the ocean and the stench of city filled his nostrils. The world meant death, pain, suffering, and he’d had enough of all of that. He felt the wind catch his arms and he closed his eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly. Off balance for just a second, he could have caught himself. That lurching, weightless feeling in his stomach, that jolt of panic about what he was going to do, it all sent warning signals through his body. But he ignored it, relaxed, and let himself fall.

Having never fallen from such a height before, Logan wasn’t sure what would happen to him. Would the rush of the world coming to meet him be so strong as to dull his senses and finally quiet his mind? Would the sudden shock of his heavy body full of adamantium striking the water finally be the breaking point? Would there be anyone left to care?

Logan tensed up, sensing the world coming close but still not daring to open his eyes. He fell, soaring straight downward, knowing it was no longer a sensation of flying that might free him.  _‘Cross my heart and hope to die._ ’

A jerking sensation snapped him at the middle, something hard coming into contact with him and crushing his body. He felt the urge to get sick rise and pass and realized he was no longer in free fall. The familiar smell of sulfur touched his nose and Logan choked back a sob. “Why?” Everything around him was so startlingly different it stung him. The ground was solid again, the world still, the arms warm and tight, the spiked tail against his cheek. “Elf… I was ready.”

Kurt kissed his lips to quiet him. “Because I vas not.”


End file.
